Doppio’s legs had moved before his brain could think. When their eyes met, His mouth moved but no sounds came out. He suddenly felt like a child again, small and lost.

The raw fragmented memories poured out into his awareness. The smell of incense clinging to his clothes. The slow chiming of bells. The heavy fabric of his cassock. The flickering flames of a hearth.

Doppio saw the man cover his mouth, his eyes screwing up with pure emotion. It was for him. He knew this man. This man knew him.

“Patri meu?”